


Back Already?

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, POV Sam Winchester, Possessive Lucifer, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Crowley, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Michael, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, Sassy Rowena MacLeod, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Sam goes to speak to Lucifer for answers on the Darkness, but the spell goes wrong. Suddenly, he finds himself trapped in the Cage, but not with Lucifer. No, with the other Archangel he imprisoned. And worse, his brother and best friend followed him.





	1. Glass Wall

Something had gone wrong. That much, Sam knew. And the moment his feet hit the cold stone of the Cage, he knew that the Visions had not been sent by God. No, the Cage had been weakened, even he could feel that. So, the spell that had been meant to pull Lucifer out, had done exactly that. But, it had pushed Sam into the Cage, just momentarily, while Lucifer was summoned. Sam shuddered, straightening his body as he forced his muscles to relax.

Lucifer wasn’t in the Cage. Sam, therefore, was slightly safer. The only issue that the Hunter could think of was the fact that Lucifer wasn’t the only Archangel in the Cage, that Michael was somewhere, hiding in the shadows. The Cage’s appearance had shifted slightly from the norm, meaning Michael knew he was here. The Hunter turned, regarded the glass wall behind him. Through the glass, the darkness stretched out, focusing on a door right at the back of the rectangular room.

Michael’s personification of the door, Sam mused, turning back to face the rest of the room. The cold was starting to make him ache, the numbness spreading across his skin, tingling the ends of his nerves. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, warning him that he was being watched by the Archangel, even if Sam couldn’t see him. The thought made his chest clench, body starting to tremble slightly.

Where Lucifer was uncontrollable rage, Michael was the picture of calm. It was, to an extent, so much worse. His moods changed quickly, temper always controlled, but he would inflict pain with the same dead, cold eyes. Lucifer did it for fun, for Sam to cry and beg and scream. Michael did it because he was bored, or because he wanted to show Lucifer he was stronger. That was how it had been for around the first hundred years of his time in the Cage, until Michael had finally broke.

His Grace had no longer lit up the Cage, instead darkening, and every so often, Sam would catch the Archangel’s eyes flashing red. The affects of Hell, creeping up on the Soldier of Heaven. In his nightmares, Sam saw himself with the dark red eyes, yet it was so much worse than he feared. Unable to move, he watched the slightly glowing corner, knowing now where Michael was.

Lucifer had tricked him. Had stolen power when the Cage was weakened, and made Sam believe that God was showing him visions. Dean was going to be so mad at him, the younger Hunter thought, looking to where Michael remained hidden. Even with Lucifer gone, Sam couldn’t force himself to relax. It may only be a short time where Crowley and Rowena were performing the spell, but it would be longer in the Cage. Time that Michael could use, if he felt like it, to inflict all sorts of pain.

‘Sammy!’ The Hunter span so sharply, confused when the door at the end of the room opened, Dean stepping in. Castiel was right behind him, both of them looking concerned, both of them rushing across to the glass. Dean was the first to hit it, like he was trying to shatter it, and the sound rang out across the Cage. Somewhere in the back of the room, a slight tremble started, and Sam realised that his brother was waking the Archangel.

‘Dean, stop!’ Anger crossed Dean’s face, the tell-tale signs of annoyance at the younger brother telling the older what to do. Dean looked like he was going to argue, until his face went very pale, eyes widening almost comically. Castiel didn’t look much better, Sam watching in confusion as his Grace shrank, wings shaking slightly as he took a step back. The Hunter had done a good job of pretending he couldn’t see Castiel’s Grace, but he didn’t try and hide it now, wondering what the Angel was so fearful of.

‘You came back.’ It was like ice, a freezing cold wave going straight down his back, Sam’s brain momentarily going offline as the voice of the Archangel stretched out. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face Michael. Red eyes, glowing dimly in the light of the Cage, on a stubble-heavy face. It was not the face of Adam Milligan, no, Michael had chosen a previous Vessel, one that had jet-black hair, a relatively tanned face, a tall yet thin frame. His eyes were focused on Sam, the red swirling slightly, wings tucked away and Grace slowly reaching out.

Sam shuddered when it hit him, the burning heat contrasting to the cold in a way that made him sway. Unlike Lucifer, Michael’s Grace was hot, running across every inch of his body as it tried to determine the state of his soul. Sam held still, not daring moving, not when the Archangel had not yet hurt him. But then, he remembered the words Michael had said, the hopeful tone.

‘I did.’ Sam slowly stated, trying to gauge the reaction of the Angel. Michael’s face remained like a mask, hiding his expression as a hand reached out. Fingers lightly stroked over his cheek, brushing down over his jawline, before moving to his throat. Sam still didn’t move, not even when the fingers lightly squeezed down on his pulse. Behind, he could sense movement, realised that Michael must have soundproofed his brother and friend. Whether it worked both ways, Sam didn’t know.

‘I missed you.’ Michael admitted, a slight smile making his lips quirk, an expression that usually meant Sam was safe. He wasn’t going to risk it though, allowing the Grace to push further into his body.

‘It was lonely, with just me and Luc.’ The Archangel turned, Sam slouching as the Grace retracted, ice fulling his body once more. The darkness in the room seemed to retreat slightly, a sign of the Angel’s good mood, Sam clenching his fists tightly before releasing. He could do this, he had survived so much worse. Nothing Michael could do would hurt, not as much as Lucifer.

‘I’m sorry.’ Sam said, surprised with how honest he found the words. Michael hadn't deserved the Cage, not even with how stubbornly stuck-up he had been. He hadn't deserved the freezing cold, the loss of his siblings, the moment he found out Lucifer had killed Gabriel. That had been a bad day, one Sam remembered clearly. And not something he wanted to repeat.

‘Why did you leave me?’ Michael inquired, still not turning to face Sam. The truth almost spilt out, the words that would have caused anger, and Sam tried to swallow them down. However, under the presence of the Archangel, lying was almost impossible. His throat tightened, Sam realising that Michael was reading his thoughts, trying to clear his mind.

‘For the love of your brother?’ The Archangel turned, and Sam could see his wings starting to twitch. A slight lapse in his ever-calm demeanour, evidence of just how screwed Sam was if he didn’t get out of this damn Cage. He hoped Rowena and Crowley were working fast, Sam didn’t have long.

‘Michael…’ Sam began, before he was slammed back into the hard glass wall. Pain shot up his spine, Sam wincing at the force the Angel had used, yet he still didn’t fight back. Lucifer would have found it amusing, encouraged him to fight back, but Michael wouldn’t put up with it. If Sam tried, he would be dead quicker than Sam could apologise.

‘You LEFT me, Samuel. Don’t think I forget that fact.’ The words were hissed, violent and angry, Michael’s arm pressing down onto his windpipe. The Hunter just nodded, tipping his head back to try and get oxygen.

**_‘Where is my brother?’ _**The change into Enochian wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the step back was. Sam slumped, coughing as his lungs sucked in air, before he realised he needed to answer Michael’s question. The change in moods was too quick, the Archangel had become even more unpredictable.

**_‘Still in the Cage, just in Hell at the same time.’ _**The lapse into the language of the Angels was easy, Sam’s tongue remembering it well, the endless years speaking it proving useful. The Archangel seemed to consider this, before his gaze slipped over Sam’s shoulder, presumably to where Dean and Castiel stood. Sam risked a quick glance back, seeing the anger of Dean and Cas’s faces, no doubt ready to attack.

**_‘Dean Winchester, my True Vessel?’ _**Dean didn’t react, looking confused, but Castiel did. So, Sam thought, they could hear the conversation. Sam nodded, Michael running an appraising glance over Sam’s older brother, fear trickling in. If Michael decided he wanted them in this part of the Cage, how would Sam keep them safe?

**_‘Does he remind you of me, Samuel?’ _**A trick question, one politely phrased to try and hide the trap. To say no would be a mockery, to say yes would be an insult. He thought over it, trying to decide what the best way to answer. Michael allowed it, because time was inconsequential in the Cage. Sam could spend years answering one question, Michael and Lucifer thought they had an eternity of Sam in the Cage.

**_‘His devotion, maybe. His love for his family, yes. But he could never be like you, Mica.’ _**The nickname was a gamble, but it apparently paid off, Michael’s wings puffing up slightly in pride. Sam relaxed slightly, taking a step away from the glass. Michael studied him curiously, like Sam was some shiny object that a child had spotted. It made the Hunter want to back away, but fear was dangerous. Archangels were predators, they could smell it.

**_‘Attempting to get out of here with your skin intact?’ _**It was bordering on a threat, the words making the two behind him move. Apparently, Castiel was translating the Enochian that Sam and Michael were speaking. A hand reached out again, this time Sam flinching back from it, watching it loop into his hair. Michael had always found it fascinating, and truth be told, that fact freaked Sam out. When he was younger, Dean had always let Sam lie in his lap when he was sad, fingers curling into his hair. Now, Sam held still as Michael tugged slightly, trying to provoke a reaction. It was a more Lucifer-like action, but Sam wasn’t going to be stupid enough to say that.

**_‘You tell me, you’re the one in charge.’ _**Sam admitted, thinking how stupid he had been to do this. Lucifer had always had control over his mind, playing on his greatest weaknesses. Why would God ever send him visions? It was ridiculous to even consider it, Lucifer had played him like a fiddle. And now, Sam was standing back in the Cage, the play he had been tortured in for almost two hundred years.

**_‘At the moment, I suppose. But Lucifer will return.’ _**That was full of promise, of the chaos the Archangel would bring when he found out Sam had been in the Cage. Sam saw Michael’s change in mood just in time to scream at Castiel to cover Dean, the warning followed by the most high-pitched whining sound. The Cage shook slightly, Sam squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his brain trying not to melt.

When he forced his eyes open, the sight almost blinded him. It had, for years and years, decades that trickled into the hundreds. Michael had his wings stretched out fully, his True Form echoing around the cold walls, his Grace bursting from his body. Heat captured Sam, holding him firm to the ground, burning every inch of his skin, yet leaving no mark. The Hunter maintained eye contact with the Archangel, trying not to cower at the sight before him. Lucifer’s was terrifying, but Michael was on a whole new level.

The sound ended, the loss of Grace making Sam slump to his knees, the wind knocked from his chest. Raising his fingers to his nose, he pressed down lightly, drawing them back to see blood. He hadn't seen this in so long, it turns out he was becoming vulnerable to it again. Michael studied him, head cocked, an amused expression on his face.

**_‘Lucifer will not be pleased, he always did like his True Form.’_** Sam struggled to his feet, determined to not let the Archangel have the last word, but Michael seemed adamant. Heat lashed out, his Grace slapping Sam back to the cold floor. The Hunter grunted, narrowly avoided landing face-first, but didn’t make the same mistake twice. He looked up, staying on the floor on his stomach, eyeing up the Angel in front.

‘I prefer you like this, Samuel. So much more… submissive.’ The last word was purred, accompanied by a flick of the Angel’s wrist, sending Sam curling in as his stomach burnt. It was another trick Michael liked to use, studying the soul without actually pushing his hand into Sam’s chest. Unable to contain the pain, Sam rolled onto his back as his chest arched up, a groan of pain leaving his lips.

‘Stay still, Samuel. I’m not finished.’ Michael bent down, traced Sam’s cheek again, this time almost lovingly. The momentary affection had Sam’s mind begging, no doubt the pleas heard by Michael. He smiled down at Sam, enough that Sam almost smiled back, before his hand plunged straight into his stomach.

This time, Sam screamed. Lucifer had done this for years, killed him over and over, but the torture made him resilient. Most would pass out, most wouldn’t be able to withstand the pain. But he was unlucky, always unlucky, and Sam was very much awake. His shoulders shook, body aching as the hand moved, wings spreading out to drape over the two of them. They weren’t visible, but Sam could see them anyway, could feel them brushing up against his skin.

‘You’re healed now.’ Michael had a child-like glee expression, rolling back on his heels and standing up. Sam rolled over quickly, dragging his knees up under him as he looked up. The issue with Michael was the fact that he was insane, utterly and completely lost, to the power of the Cage. Sam didn’t doubt that Michael genuinely believed that he had healed Sam, even though the pain was making it hard to keep what little food Sam had in his stomach down.

‘Thank you, Mica.’ Sam offered, wobbly feet bearing his weight as he stood. Michael turned, hands stretching out, and Sam couldn’t help it when he took a step back. Luckily, Michael’s attention was back on the Cage, shifting its appearance. Sam watched slowly as the cold walls changed, back to the Panic Room at Bobby’s, Lucifer’s favourite vision for torturing Sam. The sight of it alone was enough for him to tense, eyes focusing on the bed in the middle. It had been replaced with a cold, steel-looking bench, something Lucifer had found more affective than the bed placed in there for Sam’s detox.

‘This is how Lucifer has it, yes?’ Michael was walking across to the table, the one Sam wouldn’t look at, but now he was forced to. The table was another of Lucifer’s inventions, containing some of the worst weapons he used. Meat-hooks, the first thing Michael picked up, turning it one way, then the other. Sam took a step closer, despite how much it hurt, telling himself that he could convince Michael to change his tune. The Archangel had no need to torture him, did he?

‘Answer me!’ Michael was by his side so quickly, Grace slamming him forwards until he hit the table, head colliding with the steel. Slowly, hands gripping the bench, he forced himself backwards. His eyes roamed over the items, a cold shiver running down his spine, fear making his chest move faster. His vision was already blurring, a panic attack being the last thing he needed right now, but he couldn’t deal with this. Couldn’t go back to this, didn’t want it to hurt so much. Tears started to build, his lips parted as he tried to get in oxygen, and the next thing he knew, hands were on either side of his face.

‘Breathe steady for me, Sammy. In, out. That’s it, deeper.’ Michael lowered his tone, Grace lighting up his fingertips as he used it to manipulate Sam’s mind, the Hunter feeling the pressure against the barrier in his head. Mind control, something the eldest Archangel specialised in.

‘Mica, no, please.’ Sam mumbled, trying to step back, hitting the table. Michael ignored his protests, his entire hand lighting up and placing it on Sam’s head. He gasped in agony as the Grace took over, flaring through his mind, lighting his eyes up like a Christmas Tree.

‘I’m in charge, Samuel. You know that.’ Sam was released, but Michael didn’t move back, flicking his gaze to Sam’s lips, then back up to his face. Sam watched his gaze, trying not to show emotion as the Archangel moved in, lightly brushing his lips over Sam’s.

‘You can’t beat her, Sammy. Not without our help.’ The words were spoken quietly, but firmly, and Sam knew the other two must have heard. If they were still here, but Sam didn’t risk averting his gaze.

‘Our?’ He asked, worried about the answer. It turned out he had every right to, because in the next second, cold filled the room. The temperature plummeted, Michael’s grace retreating, and Sam heard the footsteps behind him before he heard the voice.

‘Well hey there, Bunk Buddy.’


	2. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags apply here, guys!

‘Well hey there, Bunk Buddy.’ Michael looked terrified, and Sam could understand why. His body was shutting down, mind freezing as the cold took over, the steps getting closer. Despite his shorter stature, Lucifer was no less terrifying, halting right behind Sam. His breath was cold, tickled along the back of Sam’s neck, yet the Hunter still didn’t move. Not yet. Lucifer chuckled lowly, before walking towards Michael.

‘Honey, I’m home!’ He joyfully stated, Michael hesitantly looking to his younger brother. The Devil seemed pleased, a hand reaching out to tilt Michael’s chin up, before he ducked his head so his lips touched the elder’s mouth. The pained sound that broke from Michael was the freezing Grace burning his skin, but it had never stopped the two of them before, so Sam didn’t really expect it to be any different this time.

‘Sammy, what are you doing all the way down here?’ Lucifer taunted, stepping back from Michael, who had raised fingers to his lips cautiously. Sam looked away from him, focusing on the Devil, who was tracing the edge of one of the meat-hooks lovingly. If he was back here, then Rowena and Crowley had to be working on pulling him out. That was what Sam kept in the forefront of his mind, refusing to let Lucifer mess with him.

‘You know what I’m doing here. I need answers.’ Because even if it had been Lucifer that had summoned him here, even if it hadn't been God, then Lucifer still had to know something useful.

‘Ah, dear old Aunty Amara causing havoc?’ Lucifer picked up one of the longer blades, pressing it to the tip of his finger and watching blood bead. Nick, the vessel he chose to look like in the Cage, was wearing the same clothing he had been when Sam last saw Lucifer. He had no doubt that was on purpose, meant to mess with the Hunter’s mind.

‘How do we get rid of her?’ Sam asked, watching as Michael started moving closer to him. Lucifer didn’t stop him, not even when Michael reached out, fingers curling into Sam’s shirt.

‘You can’t.’ Lucifer remarked, settling the blade down and unbuttoning his top two buttons, sitting up on the cold table. Michael flinched at the sound, before resuming his mission of slowly brushing over the skin that he had revealed by gripping Sam’s shirt.

‘Can we share, Luc?’ Michael asked childishly, peering back to his brother. Sam glanced between them, telling his heart to stop racing, that he was fine. Rowena and Crowley were going to get him out, they didn’t want him trapped down here, he would be fine. Everything would be fine.

‘Sammy’s mine.’ Lucifer stated, glaring at his brother, but still not stopping Michael’s touch. It was meant to be possessive, the only thing that Lucifer cared about was having control over Sam. And he knew it, could see it in the face of the Devil as he looked up to him.

‘On the bed, Sam.’ The Hunter looked to the Devil, wondering why he was doing this. What did he think he could achieve? Sam didn’t move, and Michael hissed quietly, stepping out of the way as Lucifer moved closer. His wings stretched out, Grace burning cold, reaching out to wrap around his wrists and neck.

‘That wasn’t a question.’ Shaky feet moved him, though it wasn’t of his own accord. The metal bed was cold, freezing as Sam slowly sat down, watched as the metal twisted to clasp over his ankles. This was okay, he told himself. Everything was going to be okay, he was fine.

‘Michael, you can prepare him.’ Lucifer had gone back to having his back to Sam, which made the Hunter even more nervous. This had happened so many times in the Cage, so many times, but he still couldn’t stop his heart from racing. Sweat clung to his skin, beading at his temple as Michael gripped his wrists, moving them to his sides. They stayed there, caught in the Grace, while Michael unbuttoned the layer of flannel. When it was opened, the Archangel gripped his undershirt, ripped it straight down the middle.

**_‘Tell me, Sammy, did you miss us?’ _**One, two, three. Slowly, chest rising and falling. Sam focused on the far end of the wall, telling himself that any damage done in the Cage could only be done to his soul, not his actual body. The Devil approached, tracing lightly up Sam’s thigh with the edge of the blade he had been playing with earlier.

**_‘How do we get rid of the Darkness?’ _**Sam snapped back, watching as the blade touched his bare skin, slowly moved towards his belly button. There, it paused momentarily, before resuming the torturous pace up his chest.

**_‘Where are your manners, Sammy? Answer the question.’ _**The knife pressed down just under his collarbone, Sam pushing his head back against the table, staring up at the ceiling of the panic room. Pressing his lips together firmly, he squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to give Lucifer the pleasure of seeing the pain cross his face as blood spilt from the cut.

**_‘Don’t make me peel your eyelids of, Bunk Buddy. I won’t hesitate.’ _**Light flickered across his gaze, Grace pushing him to keep his eyes open. It would have burnt, but the Devil must have been feeling kind, allowing him to blink. He didn’t let the knife stop, though, tracing it down Sam’s right pectoral muscle, pressing deeper at the curves.

**_‘They’ll get me out, Lucifer. No matter what you do.’ _**The Devil seemed amused by the statement, moving the knife to his lips to trace the edge with his tongue. Blood seemed to stick to his skin, staining white teeth red, and Sam couldn’t help but gulp at the sight. Seeing his fear, the Devil ducked down, tongue moving across the cut from his collarbone, sucking at the blood brimming up.

**_‘I can taste the Demon, Sammy. Still so strong.’ _**Michael looked revolted, scowling at his younger brother, who chuckled and pressed a kiss to his brother’s lips. Sam didn’t look away, watched the two most powerful creatures, maybe Amara excluded, make-out in front of him. When Lucifer pulled away, Michael’s lips had blood smeared across them. The red in his eyes glowed slightly stronger, his Grace darkening further, and Sam presumed that was like what had happened to his soul. Shame.

**_‘You can’t hurt me, Lucifer. Nothing will remain, topside.’ _**The Devil’s gaze flicked up, presumably to behind Sam’s head, where the Glass wall remained. He then peered back down, a cold smile forming.

**_‘Not physically… but mentally? Cassie can’t keep taking all of that burden, Sammy.’ _**The mention of the broken wall had his heart skipping, eyes widening as he remembered what had happened to the Seraph when he had tried to take the strain of torture, the burden of the memories of the Cage. It had broken eventually, Sam remembering but not feeling the effects as badly, but he couldn’t ask Castiel to do that again.

**_‘I wouldn’t ask him to. Unlike you, he isn’t an arsehole.’ _**He yelped as the knife skated over his stomach, blood pooling in the middle and spilling over his hipbones. The cut was too deep, Sam’s head swam dangerously, but Lucifer wouldn’t let him pass out. Grace began healing the edges, just enough to stop him falling unconscious.

**_‘Then we’ll just have to try harder. Mica.’_** Lucifer turned, giving Michael a look that Sam recognised well.

‘No, Lucifer please, No!’ Michael’s form flickered, slowly shifting itself. His height shortened, thin frame broadened, eyes turned to the bright blue Sam recognised. His clothing shifted, frayed jeans and battered top replaced with the suit, the long swishing trenchcoat that was automatically associated with safety. Lucifer studied the Castiel-Michael, grinning slightly when he saw how frightened Sam looked.

‘But Sammy, it’s so much fun!’ Lucifer exclaimed, twisting his own appearance seconds after. Sam looked away, only looking back when he knew the form was complete, when green eyes and calloused hands reached out, brushing over his skin. Dean, not his Dean, the eyes were too cold. His skin was too cold.

**_‘Can I play now?’_** Castiel-Michael asked, coming to his brother’s side. Sam was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to ignore how much his body wanted to relax against his brother’s hold, but this wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean, and if Rowena didn’t get him out soon, he was pretty sure he was going to struggle looking at his brother for a while.

**_‘Well, Sammy? Ready to say yes?’ _**Because that was what he needed, a Vessel topside. Sam took a deep breath, tried to replace the image of Dean with that of Lucifer, failing to do so as the sandy hair and green eyes filled his vision.

‘The answer is the same as always, Lucifer. No.’

**

Sam panted out another breath, wondering what the Hell (pun intended) was taking Rowena so long. Dean moved closer again, hands stained dark red, blood dripping from them. The front of the flannel shirt was stained, and Sam could see the bits of flesh that were on the ground. His body had been hacked apart, literally, and healed with the coldness of Lucifer’s Grace, the only thing that made him different from his real brother.

Castiel was currently sitting between Sam’s thighs, which had lost their jeans somewhere in the hours Sam had been screaming, toying with his kneecaps. The clicking sound made Sam’s stomach threaten to spill bile, like Lucifer would ever allow that.

**_‘Pretty.’ _**Dean commented, glancing to the fingers he had been breaking, only to have healed them back and smashed them to pieces again. Sam looked down, tried to remember if he had ever been in this many pieces. Possibly, but the meat hooks were dangerous regardless, like the ones in the souls of his feet. The pain was dizzying, the blood loss starting to get to him. Sam let his head tip to the side, hair covering his face, eyes studying the damp floor.

Slight movement caught his attention, his gaze moving to the glass wall that he had almost forgotten about, surprised when he saw another Dean standing there. Well, not really standing. Slumped, bloody fists, smears of blood along the wall. This Dean, whatever Dean was currently still screaming, yet no sound was coming out.

‘De…’ The Dean cutting into his ribcage paused, as did Castiel, both following his gaze to where the glass wall sat.

‘Interesting.’ Dean remarked, looking back to Sam. Castiel hummed in agreement, biting down into Sam’s thigh.

**_‘Perhaps we’ve not been… harsh enough. Or perhaps, we’ve been going about this the wrong way.’ _**Sam was about to ask what he meant, about to question why the Dean that was the wrong temperature and speaking the wrong language was talking about being harsh. But he didn’t have the chance to voice his concerns, because blackness closed in on his vision, and Sam was left with a lot of unanswered questions.

**

Warmth, that was the first thing he registered. It was to the side of him, pressed up along his side. Something soft lay under him, the coldness gone, but as Sam moved slightly, he felt it again. It was to the side, with the warmth against his side, and his eyes flicked open. He focused slowly on the sight, trying to distinguish what he was seeing, confused.

‘Dean? Cas?’ Dean shot up, off of Castiel, who he was currently straddling. Castiel looked guilty, cheeks tinging pink, before he was by Sam’s side.

‘How are you feeling?’ Dean asked, tracing his hairline softly. Castiel reached out, hand closing around Sam’s arm, the touch grounding the Hunter.

‘Sore…’ Sam admitted, trying to figure out where they were. It looked like the Bunker, but it didn’t seem quite right. The air seemed stuffy, some of the furniture wasn’t how he left it, and the books he had been reading about the Cage weren’t there.

The Cage. Sam rolled from the chair he was in so quickly that he hit the floor, skidding back from the lookalikes that were looking disappointed.

‘How did you know?’ Lucifer inquired, walking towards him with Dean’s usual swagger, Michael following. Sam shuffled further back, remembering the pain from before, the blood, Dean! He turned, finding the glass wall still intact, just in a tiny portion of the Bunker. Dean, the real Dean, looked right into Sam’s eyes as he turned his head. The concern, warmth, love, guilt and anger spilled out of his expression, Sam wishing he could assure his brother he was alright. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible, because in the next moment, Michael was in his lap.

** _‘Luc said I could have you, Sammy.’ _ **

**

Sam watched Castiel and Dean, watched as they rolled about in the torn-up sheets, watched as they rutted against each other’s skin, wings flayed out and feathers spreading across the bed. It was quite an odd sight, but a good one, because it meant Sam wasn’t being used at the moment. His legs ached, stomach ached, in fact, there wasn’t really a part of him that didn’t. He let his gaze drift away from the two Archangels, before a loud sound pierced the Cage.

‘That worked strangely well.’ Sam recognised that voice, could have cried in relief as he turned his head to see Crowley standing in the room, Rowena on the other side of the glass.

‘There seems to be a rat in our lair, brother dear.’ Lucifer remarked, body flicking back to his own skin, Nick’s skin, as he moved across. Michael did the same, stalking around the outside, but Crowley seemed unperturbed.

‘Up you come, Moose. Let’s get you out of here.’ Lucifer lunged for Sam, but seemed to hit something, bouncing right back off whatever it was. He went sprawling on the floor, Michael diving onto the ground next to him, like he meant to help him. Crowley came to Sam’s side, undoing the chains that seemed to wrap around his skin.

‘Real?’ Sam murmured, studying the King of Hell. The Demon flinched, grabbing the torn shirt from the floor and the broken jeans, attempting to give Sam some of the decency he had lost.

‘Real, Moose. Now let’s get out of here.’

**_‘Sammy don’t you dare leave us here! Don’t, please!’ _**That was Dean’s voice, and it hurt so much, stung deep into his skin, made his stomach turn. He would have gone to him, to the person on the floor that might be Dean or might be Lucifer, because he honestly wasn’t sure what was going on anymore. A hand grabbed him before he could, tugging him back into a bright light, away from the pained sound of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's reaction next? Anything else you guys want?


	3. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's back topside, or at least, maybe?

Dreams faded away slowly, memories of ice cold rooms and blood seeping slowly from wounds that Sam couldn’t remember having. The Hunter tensed up, eyes staying shut as he tried to figure out why he was on a softer surface than the metal table he was on last. Lucifer must have been trying harder, he thought, focusing on the sounds he could hear. Murmured voices, seemingly muffled by a door. Strange, usually Lucifer took pleasure in Sam being able to hear everything he said.

Opening his eyes slowly, Sam was unsurprised to find his room in the Bunker. It wasn’t hard for Lucifer to figure out that exploiting the only home Sam had ever had, besides the Impala and Dean, was a good way of torture. The temperature was more accurate this time, the room perfect to his mundane eye. Even stranger, the knife was on the dresser, exactly where Sam had left it. Raising up, he reached out for it, trying to be quiet. To kill himself in this scene would be easier, he wouldn’t have to deal with Lucifer’s incessant laughter or Michael’s burning-hot touches.

‘Sammy!’ The door had flung open just as his hand closed over the knife, Lucifer-Dean standing in the doorway, realistic panic on his face. Sam jumped backwards, avoiding the bedside table and scrambling onto the sheets, just as Michael-Castiel came in, followed by two more visions who hung in the doorway. They were slightly stranger, to see Crowley and Rowena was a surprise, but Sam didn’t hold anything against Lucifer. In his prior trip to the Cage, which Sam wasn’t entirely sure had ever ended, visions of Mom, Jess, Bobby, Ellen, Jo and Cas had been his favourites. Dean, well, that was a given. Dad, occasionally.

‘Sam, stop!’ The knife was against his skin, but Lucifer had reached him, hands wrapping around his arm and trying to yank it away. Sam screamed, partly because the touch was a lot warmer than Lucifer usually bothered with, and because the fact that it looked so much like the brother he loved hurt his chest. It didn’t get any easier, Michael jumping onto the bed beside Lucifer, also trying to snatch the knife from his grip.

**_‘Please let me go, please I’ll be quiet, I just want it to end!’ _**The short bursts of death had been the best part of the Cage, and Sam knew that was his only opportunity here. Lucifer looked confused at his speech, looking across to Michael, whose face had hardened at the words.

‘Sam it’s us, Castiel and Dean. You aren’t in the Cage.’ Laughter bubbled from Sam’s lips, tugging harder as his legs flailed out, pinned by the Archangel brothers. The grip was going to cause bruises, not that that was any problem. Bruises would actually be nice, considering the alternative.

**_‘Please, I just need to rest for a bit, I’ll do anything.’ _**Sam could feel tears on his cheeks, remembered the joy Lucifer found in them, but the Archangel didn’t look pleased anymore. He looked as terrified as Sam felt, which was confusing, but Sam didn’t have time to process it. A hand stretched towards his head, coming from Michael, and Sam was snarling and attempting to bite to stop it from touching.

‘Sammy, stop!’ The people in the doorway, the visions of the King of Hell and the Witch, both looked sad as Sam continued to struggle away from Michael’s hand, from Lucifer’s grip on his limbs. Only then did the Hunter catch sight of something on Michael that didn’t make much sense, something that froze every muscle in his body. The knife was snatched by Lucifer, but by stopping, they released his limbs.

Around the body of Castiel-Michael, a faint glow of Grace rang out. But it wasn’t the burning heat that Sam was used to, it seemed lighter, more delicate. He focused harder, pushing past the constrains of his human-vision, tracing the edge of a long black-feathered wing, not white. Sam was unsure how Michael could have done that, no Angel could shift their true form, so he reached out slowly. Michael didn’t stop him, currently-blue eyes following Sam’s hand as it reached over his shoulder.

Lucifer had taught him how to steal an Angel’s Grace, thirty years into his torture. It made Sam feel awful, the thick, blanket-like cold that came from stealing Lucifer’s, but this was different. As Sam used his soul to pull against the thread of Grace coming from the Angel, he used it to solidify the wings tucked up behind. People in the room gasped, Lucifer included, but Sam just studied the black feathers. Because they weren’t Michael’s wings, they belonged to the body sitting in front.

‘**_Castiel?_**’ Sam turned his gaze to the Angel, saw a slight smile at the name that passed his lips. The Angel shifted, his Wings vanishing as Sam dropped his hand, taking the hand as it moved back. Sam gasped slightly, shocked by the normal-temperature of the skin holding his, surprised by the lack of intense heat.

‘Sam.’ One simple word, so unlike Michael, had Sam barrelling into the Angel and burying his head into the side of his neck, limbs tucking up under him as he death-gripped the trenchcoat that he had come to associate with safety. The Angel didn’t seem shocked, just held him tighter, let Sam squeeze his eyes shut and breathe in the scent of someone that he knew, someone that was topside. He was topside, safe.

**_‘I thought you were him, Michael. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.’ _**Sam muttered, keeping close to the Angel, although he did pull back enough to check if he had bruised his friend. Castiel had many emotions showing on his face, something that was quite rare, but he didn’t look angry.

‘You’re forgiven, Sam, not that you need to apologise.’ Sam moved back, off of the lap of the Angel, glancing to the creature that probably wasn’t Lucifer, but it might still be, and Sam wasn’t sure. Unlike with Castiel, there was no Grace to confirm, no way for him to check if this was the Devil. The green eyes were hurt, staring back at him with sadness, and it was such a Dean expression that Sam was tempted to believe him.

‘It’s Dean, Sam. I promise.’ Castiel stated from behind him, Sam flinching at the name of his brother. He couldn’t be sure, not with how well Lucifer could replicate Dean. Once, deep down in the Cage (that he might still be in, he wasn’t sure), Lucifer had replicated some of the scenes from Sam’s childhood, a teenage Dean that had been the harshest person, not at all like the Dean he remembered.

‘It’s me, Sammy.’

**_‘How can I tell?’ _**Silence, nothing fell from his possible-brother’s lips, no sound came out. A hand slowly settled on his shoulder, hovering before it was placed, giving Sam time to shake it off. It was Castiel’s, who was sitting beside him, but Sam didn’t tear his gaze from the green in front.

‘You’re speaking in Enochian, Sam.’ That surprised the Hunter, who looked to the Angel in panic, then raised a hand to his throat. Of course he was speaking Enochian, how else would he stop Lucifer and Michael? Could he even speak in his normal voice? He attempted to, shaping his lips to the words, but nothing fell from his mouth.

‘It’s okay, baby brother. We can work it out.’ Dean moved closer, voice so soft, slowly reaching for Sam’s thigh. Even with the movement being watched, Sam still flinched when it touched his thigh, expecting it to freeze. When nothing happened, Sam stared at it, slowly reaching out. The skin was rough to the touch, especially the palm, Sam wrapping Dean’s smaller hand in his own. Nothing happened, no stabbing, freezing, burning, breaking of bones. Just a silence that fell over the group, Sam still staring at the skin.

**_‘How did we get out?’ _**Sam inquired, feeling the words fall from his lips like liquid. He had tried to speak them normally, but he knew he had failed when Dean looked to Castiel.

‘Rowena reversed the spell.’ He looked up to the Witch, who was staring back with an expression bordering on sympathy.

**_‘Thank you.’ _**Castiel translated, Rowena smiling as she stepped closer. Dean tensed, something that made Sam smile wider, but he allowed the Witch to bend down and press a hand to Sam’s shoulder, kissing his cheek briefly. It was such a soft movement, the redhead standing up gracefully, moving back to the doorway. Whatever she said to the King of Hell made him pout, before Rowena was gone. Crowley looked right at him, the darkness of his corrupted soul flooding into Sam’s mind. He watched it momentarily, before focusing on the King, who seemingly understood what Sam was staring at.

‘Well, now that’s all over, I’m getting far away from you two.’ And with that, the King of Hell was gone as well, Sam alone with his brother and friend, who he was pretty sure were the real thing. Dean looked uncomfortable, stuck in the moment of a chick-flic, so pulled away from Sam’s grasp to rub the back of his neck, standing up slowly.

‘I guess I could go and make dinner, grab a couple of beers?’ The hopeful expression was aimed in his direction, Sam could tell, and he offered a smile. A full smile, dimples and all, that had his brother relaxing. The elder turned to leave, but Sam felt the panic building, felt his body scream at him not to let him go. The words got lodged in his throat, stuck bubbling under the surface. It was frustrating, Sam so angry at himself as they wouldn’t come out, tears building as he tried.

‘De…’ The choked sound was from his older brother, the sob that came after from Sam, but he didn’t even have time to breath in before Dean was back by his side, arms wrapped around him, the smell of engine oil and leather filling his mind as Dean hugged him properly, held him tightly, not refusing the affection Sam found himself needing as he burst into tears.

**

‘We’ll work it out.’ Sam vaguely tried to listen, flicked his eyes open. He was tucked under Dean’s chin, head over his heart, listening to the beating rhythm that kept him safe. As it dawned on him that Castiel, the warmth on the other side of the bed, was the one that had spoken. Dean sighed, warm breath fluttering Sam’s hair, fingers looped through it. He was stuck in a sleepy-haze, tilted on his side, legs looped over his brother’s like he did when he was little.

‘I’m going to cook dinner, you staying?’ Castiel gave an affirmative, Dean slowly unwrapping Sam’s long limbs, slipping out from under him. With the warmth gone, Sam grumbled in his sleep, turning over and tucking closer to the other body. He felt Castiel stiffen in surprise, before the Angel awkwardly wrapped his arm around Sam, who gave a pleased sound, tucking under the arm and allowing the Grace that the Angel was trying to hold back wrap around his soul, snuggly sitting up against it.

‘Sam?’ The Angel questioned, possibly worried about how Sam could affect somebodies Grace so much, but the Hunter just flicked his eyes open, gave Castiel a look that told him to shut up, then shut them.

‘Always was an octopus.’ Dean mumbled from somewhere, but Sam was safe in the knowledge that he was back topside, far from the two Archangels trying to get him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be from Dean and Cas's views!


	4. Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purely fluff, lil bit of violence (but only in the past)

Castiel had never been so horrified. Or in awe. Sam Winchester had been called many things, Castiel himself referring to the Hunter as an abomination, but that wasn’t true. Not with what Castiel had seen, not with how the Hunter had dealt with the two Archangels. Watching them slice him apart, cutting him right to the soul, had been hard. Castiel had fought, Grace pounding against the wall, and only when the Hunter was unconscious did Lucifer finally acknowledge the two of them.

‘Well, if it isn’t Dean-o and Feathers.’ It had been odd, looking at a Vessel that looked right next to the real Dean, the one standing beside him with bloody knuckles, red-rimmed eyes and a murderous expression. Lucifer cocked his head, amusement on his face, blood covering his shirt. Michael, the one that looked like his Vessel, was currently still on top of Sam, lips dark red, fingers trailing over skin.

Then Sam had woke, figured out almost instantly that it wasn’t them, that it was Michael and Lucifer, and that was harder to watch. Because it meant this had happened before, meant that Sam was used to this, and that hurt the Angel. Hurt him, because Sam was his friend.

**

Now, both him and Dean were watching Sam. He had been researching for hours on how to stop Amara, seated at one of the tables in the library, having not eaten or slept in over twenty-four hours. For an Angel, that would be fine. For Sam, it was dangerous. Castiel hadn't even had the chance to speak to Sam about his abilities to manipulate Grace, let alone discuss why he could see the Angel’s wings.

‘Are you hungry?’ Dean asked, softly. So unlike him, but he had been tip-toeing around his brother for the entire day, scared of Sam going off the rails. Castiel wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t entirely sure how Sam was still alive, how he was still basically functioning.

**_‘No thank you.’ _**Castiel bit his tongue, trying to stop himself from correcting Sam, telling himself the Hunter had to figure it out himself. Sure enough, moments later, Sam rose his head, catching himself out. A look crossed his face, indistinguishable to the other two in the room, before he repeated the sentence in English. Dean slumped, noticeably disappointed by the answer.

**

Dean didn’t want to trigger anything. God knew how much his baby brother had been through, but watching what Lucifer and Michael had done to Sam? Knowing that that had happened while he had been playing happy-families with Lisa? It was hard, and the elder Winchester was struggling to keep his sanity. His knuckles still hurt, despite how much Grace Castiel had used to patch them back together. Cas hadn't gotten angry, telling Dean it was alright. That he had reacted appropriately.

He didn’t believe the Angel. Letting Sammy get hurt, watching him be sliced apart… He couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t shut his eyes without hearing the screams. And now, every time Sam spoke in Enochian, it was just another reminder that his brother had been torn apart by two pissed-off archangels.

‘Dean?’ The Hunter almost fell off of his bed, head shooting up to find his brother in the doorway, floppy hair hiding most of his face, a small smile on his face.

‘You busy?’ His voice was soft, like he feared rejection, the exact thing that had stopped Dean going near his brother for the entire day. Every time he got close, he watched his little brother tense up, terrified of him. It hurt, stung somewhere deep, cracked open his heart in ways that made him want to cry.

‘No, I,’ He cleared his throat, sitting upright and trying his best to look like his usual self, ‘Not busy. What’s up?’ Sam slowly took a step forwards, but Dean didn’t miss the way his eyes took in everything, like he was looking for a threat. The door clicked shut, Dean slowly moving over to make room for his Sasquatch-size brother. Sam took the offered space, tucking himself tightly into it, trying to make himself seem smaller.

It was the look in those usually bright hazel eyes that broke him. It was just like Alistair taught him, the look of a man who had nothing left, the look of a man driven insane by torture. But, just like it had never existed, the look left his brother’s face immediately, filled with concern.

‘You’re hurt.’ Dean hadn't even realised he had been cradling his hand, his right one, that he had smashed trying to break through to his brother. He was even more surprised when Sam took his hand without hesitation, thumb brushing lightly over the skin.

‘It’s fine, man, Cas healed it.’ He tried to keep his tone casual, but it failed, Sam’s eyes flicking up to meet his own. He then looked back down, and Dean watched in shock as his fingers glowed momentarily, the ache in his knuckles vanishing.

‘Sammy…’ He managed to choke out, wondering what the hell was happening, and Sam looked down at the floor.

‘I still have some Grace left in my system.’ Castiel had described it to him, while Dean pounded against the glass, hit it until he couldn’t see through the blood. Told him what they were doing, pushing Grace into every nerve, burning his baby brother from the inside out. How Dean had failed, failed to do the only thing that had ever been set in stone. _Protect Sammy._

‘I know… it makes me a freak, but-’ Dean hadn't quite meant to clasp a hand over his brother’s mouth, didn’t miss the flinch from the quick movement, but he couldn’t help it. Tears were already falling, and dammit, he was fed up of his emotions not listening to him. Sam fell silent, Dean praying his baby brother could read all of the emotions he was unable to speak, hoping Sam understood why tears were currently rolling across his cheeks, falling onto the sheets between them.

‘I can’t, I don’t want to see you like that Sammy. I can’t see you like that. I… you were screaming, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t get to you! I couldn’t reach you, I kept trying, I didn’t stop Sammy…’ Sam was the one to stop him this time, just by simply reaching forwards, pulling Dean into him. The elder didn’t fight, fell into his brother’s arms and held him tight, sought out his pulse just to be sure he was right here in front of him. Sam seemed to understand, guiding Dean’s hand so it lay over his heart, Dean relaxing when the steady beat thrummed under his palm.

‘Sorry.’ Sam mumbled, stupid puppy-dog eyes in full force, hazel eyes wide and sad. Dean let a choked laugh leave his system, shaking his head furiously at his brother, before bringing him closer.

‘C’mere, kid.’ Because Dean would never admit he needed Sam close to him right now, that he needed to know that Sam wasn’t leaving. And his brother understood, tucking his giant limbs up and scrambling closer, wrapping himself around Dean like they had done the other night. The elder huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly happy that he had his brother close. If it was his choice, Sam wasn’t going to leave his side again.

‘Thanks for coming for me, De.’ Sam stated quietly, fingers curled in Dean’s shirt. Dean swiped the last tear before it could hit his brother’s girl-hair, rubbing them to stop anymore following.

‘Always, Bitch.’

‘Jerk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! If you have any other fics/ideas you want written, drop a comment below, I need some more story ideas! :)

**Author's Note:**

> How do you want this to go, guys?


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